


Changeling child

by Keepoffthegrass (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Fae & Fairies, Folk Tales, Gen, Kid Mycroft, Kid Sherlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Keepoffthegrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft knows that isn't his brother....Sherlock is a changeling. The real question is what became of his actual brother?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I know I have a lot of wip's going on but I'm just playing at the moment and may not finish these recent ones...where as fur, smile and wolf WILL be finished and soon!  
> This idea came to me yesterday, god only knows why, based on the old tales of elves or trolls swapping a human child with one of their own kind...because clearly I'm a shitty writer and therefore need to write au :P  
> a beta could be nice but no one has expressed any interest so far.:)

Mycroft was eight years old before he became a brother. He had already been at boarding school for some months but as luck would have it little Sherlock was born in the summer, giving Mycroft plenty of time to bond with him during the hols.  
  
One hot night as Mycroft lay tossing and turning trying in vain to fall asleep, he thought he heard a voice he didn't recognise coming from the nursery followed by the baby crying. Once all was peaceful again he crept in and peeked over the Moses basket only to almost trip over his feet in his haste to step back.  
  
                                                      ***  
  
“That's not our baby” he told mummy the next day as she fed Sherlock.  
  
“What on earth are you talking about Mycroft?”  
  
“I think I heard someone in the nursery, and well, he doesn't look like my brother” Mycroft could hear for himself how ridiculous it sounded, how like petty jealously due to having a sibling so late in his life. It was true though, he was paler than his baby, his curls more defined, worst of all the eyes that burned with a strange intelligence.  
  
“Don't be silly, it isn't like you to say such nonsense. You know having Sherlock doesn't change anything; father and I still love you. You'll be so busy at school you won't even see him much so don't fret” she patted Mycrofts hair and cooed rubbish at the baby, effectively dismissing Mycroft who left gladly as the babies cold eyes stared unblinkingly into his own.


	2. 2

Sherlock proved to be a difficult baby; fractious with an almost insatiable appetite, his cries could be heard over the entire house. Mummy was soon taking anti-depressants and leaving many of the duties to a nanny and Mycroft found he was over joyed when the holidays ended, he didn't even come home for Christmas.  
  
 _Dear mummy and father,_  
 _I have chicken pox and the nurse thinks it will be best if I stay here over the hols because of the baby. Don't worry, I don't mind. I'll see you all soon, kiss Sherlock for me._  
 _Love Mycroft_  
  
Of course he did feel bad about lying but father had sent his presents up to the school and some chums were also staying, and really anything was better than the constant echo of wailing.  
He couldn't get out of spending a couple of days in the New year however.  
  
                                                       ****  
“Mycroft darling it's so good to see you” mummy kissed his head, a squirming Sherlock held in her arms “Wave hello Sherlock, I know you can” she sighed as he did nothing but stare at Mycroft. “Would you like to hold him?”  
  
“Do I have to mummy? I might drop him after all”  
  
“Might stop him crying for once” she laughed high and brittle as she hoisted Sherlock over one shoulder and made her way into the kitchen. Mycroft joined her side to avoid the babies gaze but he only turned his head to the side so he could still see him.  
  
…....................................................................................................................  
  
Over dinner Sherlock predictably howled . “He's even worse now he can eat solid food! I'll have to take him to the doctor; it isn't normal”  
  
“Nonsense! He's just got a healthy appetite” father said ruffling his curls “He needs to fill out those spindly limbs; he's going to be tall”  
  
Mother handed Sherlock back to nanny and drank some wine and Mycroft wondered how they didn't realise that their baby had been replaced when he could see it plain as day.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the chapters are so short

The years went by as they do; spring giving way to summer and autumn to winter, and soon enough Sherlock was four and Mycroft a serious intelligent boy of twelve.   
When Sherlock was nearly two nanny's mother had become ill so she had had to hand in her notice. Her replacement was a middle aged Irish woman who's feelings regarding Sherlock perfectly matched Mycroft's own, but through her tall tales of elf-folk and changeling’s his fear and unease turned more to pity and curiousity-both for fairy hills and the fate of his real brother.  
                                                         
                                                       ****  
  
  
It was during the Easter hols that the 'Event' occurred: Sherlock hadn't taken kindly to mummy removing the dead bird he was in the process of examining. He had cruelly informed her that she wasn't his mother and bitten her so father told him he was a wicked creature and locked him in his room until he was ready to apologise and learn some manners.  
They all sat in silence in the living room with just the ticking and the chiming of the grandfather clock making its presence known and announcing the dinner hour.  
  
“You should let him out now, you know how he gets when he's hungry” mummy told father.  
  
“Serves the bloody bugger right! He can't treat you like that and get away with it” father folded his paper in a decisive way and mummy said no more about it.  
But then the screaming started, so loud that glass shattered. With his hands over his ears Mycroft yelled that perhaps he should take some food up and father nodded.  
  
…....................................................................................................................  
  
“You just have to say sorry you know” Mycroft reasoned as he picked at a potatoe having taken his own meal up with him.  
  
“I didn't do anything wrong and if you aren't going to eat that then give it to me”  
  
Mycroft snorted.  
  
“Fine I shouldn't have bitten her but I was just telling the truth; she isn't my mother!”  
  
“You can't go around saying things like that” Mycroft shifted uncomfortably “People will think you're insane, not to mention how upset mummy would be”  
  
Sherlock sighed deeply as though sacrificing a great deal “For your sake I'll be nice. I wish you didn't have to go to school it's so wretched here without you-there's no one to play with and nothing to do. Tell mother to have another baby”  
  
“I don't think it's that simple, besides you will be at school soon” Mycroft laughed as he gathered up the plates “I'd better go back down, I was only meant to be bringing you dinner”  
  
“Mummy won't mind, she's always trying to get you to spend more time with me...they think you're afraid of me”  
  
“Of course I'm not that would be silly” Mycroft lied. With his back turned he didn't see Sherlock's sad smile.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry updates are taking so long! Having major internet issues with my outdated dongle and Christ knows what else. Hope to get new pc and broadband connection in the summer. Thanks for your patience x

When Mycroft came home for Christmas the four year old Sherlock was practically vibrating with excitement, unnatural silver eyes glowing and a healthy flush to his pale cheeks.  
  
“I don't understand what he's so happy about” mummy whispered to Mycroft with a small frown marring her pretty fair face.  
  
Mycroft frowned back “He's old enough to get what it's all about that's all. Wouldn't you rather have him happy then screaming the house down?” he smiled as he watched Sherlock taking in the larder; full to the brim with festive goodies. Mycroft was rather looking forward to getting his hands on some of it himself.  
  
“Of course, silly of me. What would I do without my dear sensible My?” she smoothed his hair down and placed the last item of shopping on the shelf.  
  
“When can we start eating it?” Sherlock asked making mummy and Mycroft laugh.  
  
….......................................................................................................  
  
That night Sherlock crawled in bed with Mycroft, startling him awake with too-cold skin.  
  
“What's the matter?” he groaned annoyed “You have never shared a bed with me when you were little so why start now?!”  
  
“Can't sleep. Hungry”  
  
Mycroft sighed “It's Christmas eve tomorrow, we can start then, but Sherlock listen and listen well-don't touch any cake or puddings or meat; just chocolates, biscuits and candy canes from the tree. Oh and don't drink from tall glass bottles”   
  
“Mince pies? They look yummy...” Sherlock's stomach rumbled at the thought.  
  
Mycroft considered, beginning to feel a bit peckish too. “Perhaps a couple but leave some for the big day and for the carol singers. Are you going back to bed now?”  
  
“Shan’t. I'm staying here now so move over”  
  
Mycroft spent five minutes trying to drift back to sleep but his own growing hunger and Sherlock's wriggling prevented it.  
  
“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked as Mycroft left the bed coming back with a locked box.  
  
“I may have a secret candy stash, for emergences you understand” he explained fishing four cadbury dairy milk bars out.  
  
Sherlock’s' eyes lit up and he gasped.  
  
“Which will be moved to a different location now!” Mycroft informed him.  
He ate slowly and delicately in defiance of his weak will power where as Sherlock _consumed_ with an animal hunger, staring at Mycroft until he relented and handed over the last piece with a shudder as he found himself wondering if Sherlock would eat him if no other food were available.  
  
                                                                                ****  
  
Christmas morning they came down to find Sherlock eating his way around the Christmas tree.  
  
“Sherlock!” Mummy yelled horrified.  
  
“My said I could!” he shot back, chocolate coin half unwrapped in one small but long-fingered hand.  
  
Mummy turned to Mycroft “I may have said something” he admitted.  
  
“Most children, normal children that is, would be interested in their presents; they would be too excited to eat. It's more like having a wild animal than a son”  
  
“Calm down dear, better some coins and peppermint sticks then the glazed ham and a raw Christmas pudding” father pointed out. “And Mycroft is quite fond of stuffing himself silly sometimes too eh?” he poked Mycroft's tummy in a joking way but Mycroft felt himself flush, keenly aware of his own shortcomings.  
  
“Don't talk to him like that” Sherlock's sticky hand found his own. “And besides I have opened my presents actually! And I am excited, I just happen to be excited about dinner” Sherlock squared his jaw and thrust his head up, daring their parents to say something.  
  
Mummy got the rest of the presents from under the tree and father mumbled an apology to Mycroft.  
  


 


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have left kudos, please do leave a quick comment it would mean the world to me!

And so life went on; Sherlock and Mycroft grew up and apart as only those siblings with a big age gap between them can. Mycroft had decided he rather liked order and control and was chasing a career in the government and Sherlock was sullen and sulky, mistrusting and far too smart and calculating for his age and his own good.  
  
Going home for the weekend when Sherlock was eleven, Mycroft found mummy looking through some old photos in her room and joined her.  
  
“Look father took this when Sherlock was three days old” she said holding it out to him. Mycroft wasn't really interested but he took it anyway.  
  
“And this one I took when he was two weeks and here's one a couple of days after you said he wasn't our baby...I didn't see it at the time, too busy I suppose, but there is some difference isn't there?”  
  
“I was just a child myself mummy. I was probably jealous” Mycroft replied quietly trying not to look at the pictures too much: rounder face giving way to long and thin, explosion of curls from vague waves...  
  
“I've started to think that perhaps you were right, he isn't our baby but that would mean our Sherlock is lost somewhere and that's a horrible thought! Tell me I'm wrong Mycroft please”  
  
Mycroft looked into his mothers wide pleading eyes and told her what she wanted to hear, what he also wanted to hear.  
  
“Babies change a lot and fast...I know Sherlock is a bit of a disappointing brat but he's your son mummy, at least you have me to make up for it. Now lets go down to dinner hmm?”  
  
“About time” father said when they entered the dinning room to find the meal had already been served.  
  
“Why aren't you eating, Sherlock?” Mycroft asked after watching him chase peas around the plate with a knife.  
  
As Sherlock tossed his hair out of his eyes and everyone saw he had regular blue ones, mummy burst into tears and fled the room, father reluctantly following.  
  
“You're a witness Mycroft; I didn't say anything! She's always crying lately...”  
  
“What's happened to your eyes?” Mycroft calmly asked.  
  
“Don't worry they haven't magically changed colour. There contacts”  
  
“Why on earth would you want coloured lenses?”  
  
“Because a boy at school called me a freak, he said my eyes weren't normal”  
  
Mycroft was stunned at the ready admission “Just ignore him Sherlock. You can't capitulate to silly bullies”   
  
“But he's right though! I'm not normal am I? I don't belong here and you know it, you've always known it! Mummy has started to see it too hasn't she?”  
  
“There is nothing to see Sherlock because you are perfectly normal! This fantasy of yours about being some changeling to cover up your failings and inadequacies stops now!” Mycroft slammed a hand on the table, breathing heavy as mixed emotions raced in circles in his mind.  
  
“Of all people I thought I could depend on you, I thought you believed me...understood me. Thank you for showing me how wrong I was” Sherlock marched stiffly out of the room ignoring Mycroft's apologies.  
  
                                                      ****  
   
  
Mycroft left the next day and Sherlock continued wearing blue lenses. By fourteen he was getting into fights at school and losing judging by his face, at fifthteen he occasionally smoked and had tried weed. At sixteen he was beautiful and everyone could see it.


	6. 6

Mycroft looked at his watch again, irritated that he had to recourse to such a plebeian activity. Leave it to Sherlock to be late of course he sniffed disdainfully. It had been decided that his little 'brother' should get to know London ahead of university so he was spending a week in Mycroft's tasteful flat, something neither of them wanted.  
The buzzer finally rang but Mycroft waited a full five minutes before letting Sherlock in.  
  
“You left me out there on purpose” he commented as he stubbed out his cigarette with an overly vicious motion of his heel.  
  
“You should try being on time then” Mycroft replied mildly “Really Sherlock, smoking? How very clichéd and run-of-the-mill of you”  
  
“Piss off and let me in”  
  
Mycroft refrained from rolling his eyes (leave that sort of thing to Sherlock). Picking up Sherlock's bags he led the way inside where he couldn't help a proud “Well, what do you think?”  
  
“It's white and empty; looks like a poorly stocked fridge. Speaking of which, I'm hungry” Sherlock wondered off to the kitchen with unerring accuracy only to proclaim it practically barren.  
  
“I didn't know you still ate like a pig” Mycroft explained when Sherlock wondered back in gnawing on a piece of cheese.  
  
“Only around you” he answered with a shrug before smirking “You're on a diet”  
  
“Yes well done, very clever” Mycroft may have rolled his eyes a little at that. “We'll eat out today and shop tomorrow”  
  
“I don't want to go out! Just get a take away can't you?” Sherlock asked in a small voice, looking anywhere but at Mycroft who agreed because it was such unusual behaviour.  
                                                                  
                                                                          .....  
  
  
Mycroft watched Sherlock lick sweet and sour sauce off his fingers as he tried to make sense of earlier. He honestly thought he would have to put bars on the window to stop his brother from roaming the city's streets at all hours but yet here he was watching TV and eating take out.  
  
“Stop staring at me” Sherlock muttered, not taking his eyes off the telly.  
  


“You may as well take out your lenses now it is just the two of us”  
  
“Force of habit, used to it now. Besides I imagine it makes it easier for you to believe I'm lying about what I really am...”  
  
“Don't start on your first day here! I don't want an argument” Mycroft chastised “Why don't you tell me why you don't want to go out instead?”  
  
Sherlock put down his plate and fidgeted around fishing out a packet of fags and a simple plastic lighter from his dark jeans. Stalling for time Mycroft thought, if he's still smoking by Christmas I'll get him a decent lighter.  
  
“I'm...afraid to. People have started acting odd around me, they look at me strangely...” Sherlock tried to explain as he lit up.  
  
Mycroft got up to open a window which conveniently hid his smile.  
  
“I assure you it is quite normal Sherlock. You're growing into yourself, becoming a handsome young man after a sort. Enjoy it and get used to it”  
  
Sherlock shook his head vigorously “You don't understand; it isn't like that! Even mummy and father are affected...last day of term my shirt got ripped because a mob of boys were pushing and pulling to paw at me! That isn't normal, not even for boarding school!”  
  
“Perhaps you are just over-reacting because it's so new to you” Mycroft gently offered “Get some sleep, we can talk about it in the morning”


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, sorry it takes me an age to update, and anyone is welcome to say hi to me on twitter, or yell at me even-I might write quicker and better then!  
> If this is extra terrible I'll blame the can of pimms, if it's great then ditto.
> 
> Technical authors note: the way I've imagined the elf/fairy folks ability to spirit people away and make them dance etc, is something they go through like puberty and it doesn't become something they can control until they have lain with a human.

Sherlock slept late as teenagers do so Mycroft had time to get some food in. He poured cereal in a bowl and put bread and waffles in the toaster. He stood for a moment hesitating before, with a shrug, he made eggs and bacon.  
He did not need to call before Sherlock shuffled into the kitchen, no doubt drawn by the smell of cooking.

"Thank you" Sherlock gave Mycroft a quick hug before tucking in and it was like all the difficult years between them had fallen away.

"We are going out today you know?!" Mycroft told him as he spread marmalade over his own toast.

"Fine if we have to. I want to go to Ripley's believe it or not, and medical museums though" Sherlock's unnatural silver eyes shone with enthusiasm and Mycroft suppressed a shiver.

"I suppose we could. Do you plan on being a doctor then?"

Sherlock shook his head with a smile, ridiculously perfect curls brushing his odd face. He pushed his empty plate away with a contented hum and Mycroft slowly became aware of a wonderful scent, completely separate from toast and fried eggs. He put the plates in the dishwasher and tried to sniff discreetly.  
Sitting back at the table he tried to read the Telegraph but mostly he looked at Sherlock; he suddenly felt like he could dance for hours or walk for miles-whatever Sherlock asked of him he could and would obey.

"Oh god not you as well!" Sherlock groaned as he saw Mycroft's glazed eyes.

"I'm sorry" Mycroft explained dazed "you smell incredible!"

"Tell me! Tell me everything" Sherlock demanded as he went and sat on his brothers lap.

"You smell like my gentlemens club and devils food cake. Mummy's perfume and cut grass" Mycroft described, as he greedily inhaled along Sherlock's neck.

"Your favourite things" Sherlock mused even as he tilted his head to the side to allow better access. "What else?"

"I...I feel like running away with you, or dancing until my feet bleed..." Mycroft attempted to explain in an unsteady voice.

"Do you, do you want me?" Sherlock whispered.

"How can you ask me that?! I want what you want, what you command me to do I'll...but no! I'm stronger than this whatever the hell this is! You are still at school and you're, my brother, my little brother, it wouldn't...get off of me Sherlock! Go and shower and we'll visit the museum you wish to see" 

"I'm not your brother, not technically, and I would rather be groped by you than some random stranger!" Sherlock appealed but to no avail-Mycroft held firm.

Somehow they made it through the week, but Mycroft put even more distance between them afterwards. Because he was weak and afraid and because Sherlock was right but he refused to admit it-because that was not what he had suspected it to be. It was not the normal allure of an attractive teen, body lithe and trim and eager to please and learn. That was luring away of children in the night, the snaring of the unwary, the entrapment of those foolish enough to step into fairy rings.  
So he got on with his life and Sherlock got on with his, even mummy didn't bother to beg him to come home at the holiday, accustomed as she had become to the fact that she had a cuckoo in the nest.  
It was an unpleasant shock therefore to next see him looking whiter than the hospital sheets he was laid on. Mycroft had gotten the call from Sherlock's university to say that he had a suspected drug overdose. He was nineteen. Mycroft, if asked, would concede to some feelings of guilt that he had only the barest idea of how Sherlock spent his days.

"Sherlock it's Mycroft. For some reason the school called me, for the best really, poor mummy wouldn't cope well..." he murmured as he hovered at the side of the bed.

"Has it gone now? Did Sebastian fuck it out of me?" Sherlock's eyes snapped open, even high the ever-present blue lenses were in, and Mycroft suddenly felt a deep sadness, like the pity one feels for a tiger in a cage.

"Yes it's gone. You can sleep now"


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think anyone needs these, as prevalent in popular culture as elf and fairy etc myths still are, but here we go.  
> The good people love music so fits nicely with the violin that Sherlock has to have, by all accounts they seem a flirty race who like taking human lovers and enticing people away-I read one thing that actually said they enjoy feasting music and making love!  
> They can make horses from reeds or straw and matted tangles in your hair in the night are blamed on them.

For the child who had held his hand when his father teased about his weight, Mycroft had Sherlock's university send him regular updates.  
(It went without saying that he had Sebastian Wilkes ejected from the school and other establishments informed that he was a drug dealer who took advantage of his fellow pupils once they were under the influence)  
Finding a quiet moment he sat down in his lunch time to peruse the latest report.

Dear Mr Holmes,  
As requested here is news of Sherlock's progress: He has taken up the violin, which he plays exceedingly well in a short space of time. Though possessing a fine voice he declined to join the choir.  
He has become friends with Victor Trevor, a bright quiet young man whose father specializes in rare books, Victor is rather besotted with your brother which is probably not healthy...Sherlock for his part is slightly more tolerant of others than he used to be.

 

..................................................................................

Sherlock shut down his computer with a sigh that became a smile when Victor walked in.

"Vic would you do something for me?" 

"Of course I would" Victor blushed.

Sherlock consciously imagined charming Victor into agreeing to anything, something he had begun doing of late with varying degrees of success.

"

We need to skip out of here and break into your fathers bookstore" Sherlock flippantly informed him.

"What?! Why?"

"Because he deals in rare tomes and there's a book I'm trying to find...I thought you said you would help me, don't you want to help me Victor? " Sherlock silkily asked. He waited until Victor got that befuddled glazed look before gliding over to him.

"I need your help Victor, only you...you want to make me happy don't you? " Sherlock crowded the smaller boys personal space, slender body pressed against him.

"Yes I do Sherlock, really I do! I'll do anything you ask; lets run away across the moors together or dance all night! I'll make horses out of straw for you...wait, what a silly thing to say, I couldn't do that" Victor laughed nervously.

"You're babbling and we're wasting time" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Won't it be impossible to break out of uni at night?"

"You have a lot to learn; just follow me and everything will be fine" Sherlock stuffed a set of lock picking tools into his coat pocket before climbing down the tree outside his window.

***

"You keep watch and I'll look for the book" Sherlock said once they were inside. Breaking out of uni was a piece of cake and something he often did.

"You know we could have come here at the weekend and opened the door like normal people. Why have we broken in?" Victor asked, charm wearing off without Sherlock's focus on it.

"Because I want the book now! Besides it's good practice-one never knows when one might need to pick a lock."

"You talking about that consulting detective thing again?"

"Victor kindly shut up!"

Sherlock bent double over rows of books and ransacked cupboards full of piles that were waiting to be shelved.

"Where does your father keep ones he's sold that haven't been collected yet?"

"The safe in the back room. There worth thousands of pounds so don't damage anything!"

Sherlock was gone before he had finished speaking and Victor scratched his head with a sigh. It was times like these that made him wonder why he was friends with Holmes.

"Have you found it?" he asked as he abandoned his post at the window.

"No damn it. Found something similar though." Sherlock replied. "I need to go to Ireland, or Scotland I suppose"

"We have a cottage in Ireland. We're going there next hols"

Sherlock moved like a lightening bolt, charm on the highest setting he currently knew.

"You never told me that!"

"I never had any reason to. I didn't think you would be interested in windy countryside"

"Oh but I am! Wrangle an invite for me Vic, you know my parents wouldn't care if I was dead in a ditch somewhere so I'll just be stuck at uni for the holiday. ..take me with you and I'll make it worth your while" Sherlock put his hands on Victor's arse, pulling him in closer. "You can kiss me Vic, I know you want to"

Victor let out an unbecoming whimper and did so, far more sloppy than Sherlock liked but alas that's life.

"Lets not go back to uni tonight. I have money, we can stay at a hotel. We'll be back before they even notice" Sherlock suggested and Victor eagerly agreed.

Victor may not have been a good kisser but his mouth was good at other things, Sherlock had enjoyed himself more than he thought he would. Perhaps the things he had read recently about the fair folk were true.  
He smiled as his long fingers made elf-locks in Victor's golden curls. Soon he would find a way home and finally belong.


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good folk like blonde humans.  
> cailean is gaelic for child  
> dokkalfar means dark elves from norse mythology  
> the one they meet is a solitary fairy Sherlock comes from the trooping fairies.

"It isn't much I'm afraid, just a stone cottage in cold and windy surroundings" Victor explained as they stood at the bottom of the driveway after arriving in Ireland.

"I think it looks amazing! You worry too much" Sherlock replied squeezing Victor's hand.

Victor shrugged and swiped his hair out of his eyes.

"Is it your parents? Because they don't have to know we're more than friends..." Sherlock told him.

"I think that would be best, just until I talk to them"

"Vic it's fine, I don't mind. Lets just go and meet them ok?"

***

"You finally made it! You must be starving, I'll get some dinner going" Mrs Trevor announced cheerfully. "Your father is just out the back getting wood"

 

"Hullo, this must be the famous Sherlock we've heard so much about" 

Sherlock stood up from the dining table and extended his hand. "Mr Trevor, thank you for letting me stay"

"Glad to my boy. Call me Fred though" 

The Trevor family were all fair haired with strawberries and cream complexions and ernest happy natures, Sherlock took an instant liking to them. Soon everyone was yawning and after her husband had gone up Mrs Trevor told the boys she had something she wanted to tell them. 

"I haven't put the blow up bed down, because, well, your father and I talked about it and from your letters Victor dear, we got the impression that you were a bit more than friends...and that's fine! That's absolutely fine, as long as you don't make too much noise" she finished with a becoming blush.

"Thank you " Sherlock hugged her fiercely "Its always been clear how much respect and affectation Victor has for his family and now I understand why"

"What a lovely thing to say" she mused in a flustered overcome way. "You'll always be welcome here Sherlock, now get to sleep both of you! And one more thing-smoke out of the window!"

***

"Your parents are great. You're so lucky to have them" Sherlock told Victor as he untied his shoes.

"Believe me I know." Victor agreed "I'm sorry you don't get on with yours"

"I'm used to it now" Sherlock shrugged before grinning wickedly "Shall we test how quiet you can be while experiencing exquisite pleasure?"

"I imagine I shall fail miserably but I accept the challenge " Victor smiled back just as broadly "I can always stuff a sock in my mouth" he added as he rushed to unbutton his shirt.

................................................................................

The week went by in a happy blur for Sherlock, consisting of taking in the few sights the town had to offer, camping and fishing-two things that he had never done before.  
But he never forgot what had brought him there. On the last day of the trip he planned on setting off in search of his own people..

***

"Ow! I don't understand why my hair always gets tangled when I share a bed with you" Victor grumbled as he tried pulling a comb through.

"It just happens with curly hair, don't be a baby" Sherlock stifled a smile.

"Your hair is far more curly than mine and yet it doesn't happen to you! Bloody hell!"

"Do you boys need help?" Mrs Trevor knocked on the door.

"You can come in, Vic needs his mummy to do his hair" Sherlock teased.

"That's a serious case of elf locks, this may takeawhile" his mother said as she sat on the bed, comb in hand.

"To be honest I think Victor made it worse" Sherlock supplied.

"Silk pillowcases, that's what you need. So what are you two up to for your last day?"

Victor laughed, seeing a chance to do some teasing of his own. "Sherlock has an obsession with fairies so apparently we're going looking for one"

"There's a stupid looking blonde one right in front of me" Sherlock retorted with a scowl

"Pot, kettle!" was Victor's response.

"The Irish are big believers in that sort of thing" Mrs Trevor interjected "You'll find fairy rings and mounds and what have you, pretty much everywhere here...I think it could be fun. I'll make a picnic for you"

Sherlock and Victor sat in silence for a bit after Mrs Trevor left, until Sherlock joined Victor on the bed and resumed combing out the last of the knots.

"You know I was joking about the fairy comment?" he asked.

"Yeah of course, so was I" Victor replied "What's the matter? The Holmes I know wouldn't explain his actions..."

"It's nothing; I've just had such a nice time with you here, I wouldn't want a silly joke to spoil things" Sherlock wanted to go home, of course he did, but he would miss Victor.

***

"Sherlock come on! What ever you're looking for, you aren't going to find it. We should turn back before we lose the light" Victor urged as he battled with the wind for his scarf. Not looking where he was going he had already put one foot inside the fairy ring.

"Vic!" Sherlock quickly grabbed his arm and stepped in with him.

"You lovely boys will catch your death out here so late" suddenly they were no longer alone, a tall female as slender as a sapling with white hair and the same silver eyes that Sherlock hid, was standing before them.  
"Come inside with me" she smiled. With a click of her long fingers the ground beneath their feet seemed to melt away until they were standing in an underground cave lit by an unidentified light source.

Once inside she circled Victor with a pleased expression which turned to surprise when she looked at Sherlock. 

"You aren't human" she exclaimed.

"No, I'm like you!"

"Sleep" she whispered, blowing dust in Victor's face before waving for Sherlock to continue.

"I'm a Changeling and I've waited my whole life for this day-"

"There haven't been changelings for a hundred years! You must be Ishmilla's child...it will bring her peace to know you live and are healthy"

"You know my mother?!" Sherlock couldn't believe his luck; not only had he found one of his kind but he had found one who knew his mother.

"No. I prefer my own company and that of the occasional human, she lives with many, but news reaches even me" she replied.

"Oh. Well never mind, I can tell her myself. Is my father alive do you know?"

"Wait, cailean you are getting ahead of yourself. You can't come back, you have been gone too long!"

"No, that isn't true! I don't belong with them, even my human parents know-I want to be with my own kind, I want to fit in and not have to hide who I am..."

"I am sorry little one but I don't make the rules"

"Why did my mother abandon me?" Sherlock asked angrily "I've seen Mycroft, I doubt his brother could have been pretty enough to want to swap!"

"She didn't abandon you! The Dokkalfar took you after one of them took offense at something she said. I heard they made quite the pet of the human child but I've never seen him, gossip and rumours however I have. They say he has unsettling dark eyes and is more malicious then any pixie. Drink some tea and dry your tears cailean"

Sherlock took a sip and she smiled and glided off somewhere. He was about to take another when he stopped, the words of everything he had ever read going through his head : the wee folk lie, the little people play tricks, the good folk manipulate.  
He poured the rest into the picnic flask and was just putting the delicate cup down when the she elf returned.

"All finished?" she enquired.

"Yes, thank you. I would really like to sleep now I think"

"You can go back soon...I have a gift for you" she held up a small glass or crystal ball "It will show you scenes of our world. What would you give me in return?"

"I have nothing"

"You have your companion, you have claimed him yes? but if you give him to me freely it will make no difference"

"What would happen to him?"

"He would lead a short but happy life"

Sherlock considered, looking over at Victor's sleeping form. His eyes fell on the bag of picnic things "He has parents who worship him, I can't do that to them. I'm sorry" he answered.

"Then we will compete for him. Do you know how to charm?"

Sherlock nodded uneasily. He had only begun using it recently and she could have had centuries of practice!

She woke Victor up and they waited awhile until the groggyness left him.

"Sherlock where are we? Did we find a fairy?! Oh we did, I thought they were tiny?"

She laughed clapping her hands "He is a delight! And what a ridiculous name you have" her pale lips curved up in a smile "Shall we begin Sherlock cailean?"

"Oh Sherlock she's so beautiful! Lets stay here and dance with her forever" Victor took a small step toward her only to stop when he heard Sherlock.

"Victor no! You have to stay here with me. Remember the straw horses you have to make?" An invisible tug of war went on this way, Sherlock tiring while the she elf was unaffected. Just when it seemed she would win he called on his last reserves of energy and threw everything he could at Victor.

"Victor come to me! Only me, I'll make it worth your while, I always make it worth your while. Take my hand Victor..."  
He stopped where he stood, one foot off the ground, before marching over to Sherlock and kissing him.

"I won fair and square! Give me my gift" Sherlock demanded.

"I don't think I will! That's no way to talk to your elders"

Sherlock's face fell and she softened.

"However your story did not leave me unmoved. I will compromise. Do you play an instrument?"

"Violin"

"An excellent choice. Rub this salve into your hands before you pick up your violin, and you will play music from our realm"

"Thank you, really"

"There is one more thing before you go; do not fall in love with a human! The moment you give your heart to one all is lost, you can never come home and your life will be bound to theirs even if they do not return your love-if they died you will die!"


	10. 10

Time flew by and soon Sherlock and Victor had graduated. Victor had no recollection of their meeting with the she elf but his relationship with Sherlock had grown in strength.  
Having no other option until he found some work, Sherlock had to temporarily move back 'home'.

***

"What do you want to do mummy? disown him?" Mycroft asked with an uneasy tone.

Sherlock stopped in his tracks to listen.

"If the neighbours wouldn't talk I would! If it wasn't for the fact that it's too late I would adopt him! Maybe we could say we've just found out that the hospital switched babies somehow? I mean it happens, you hear about it right?"

"Why don't you have a lie down mummy? Take a pill" Mycroft advised.

Against his better judgement Sherlock stormed into the room. "After today you won't have to worry about seeing me again! And believe me I would be happy to change my ridiculous name but it's on the website and people know it now"

"Sherlock wait, I have a job for you" Mycroft patted his mother awkwardly then strode after Sherlock. Try his best to act indifferent though he did, Mycroft could still see the hurt that flashed across his face.

"All you have to do is recover some incriminating photos of a member of the royal family. Dull I know but it will pay well"

"Alright I'll do it, but only because of the money! I'm not doing you any favours" Sherlock twisted his face up at the thought before taking his chances with his father.

 

"Come in I suppose" the old man called out after Sherlock knocked on the study door. "Ah Sherlock, have you upset your mother again?"

"You could say that...I'm leaving actually only I was wondering, Victor's parents gave him some money to find a flat, and well, we want to move in together and if I could help-"

"Yes I'll give you some money. I don't know what it is about you but your mother isn't happy when you are here...it's best for everyone if you move out" his father folded up his glasses in a distracted way then looked at Sherlock sharply.  
"I always knew you would be tall...does he make you happy, this Trevor chap?"

"Yes. He does actually"

Mr Holmes nodded "Good, that's good. You will write won't you?"

"Of course if you want me to" Sherlock answered surprised "Thank you" he moved to go in for a hug but pulled back at the last moment for a handshake.

.................................................................................

Together they had the rent for a couple of months on Montague street and Mycroft's case paid for some furniture. Victor worked in his cousins pharmaceutical company and Sherlock read the papers and waited for his website to take off.  
Their days were filled with laughter and lovemaking but Sherlock never let himself truly love Victor. He vowed not to forget the she elf's warning and so always held a piece of himself back.

***

"Do you think maybe it's time you got an actual job instead of a made up one?" Victor moaned one evening as he got in from a long day at work. "It might be nice to have some help financially once in awhile!"

"It is a real job, and for your information I'm currently working with a Lestrade on the Carl Powers case, so shut up and kiss me"

"I'm not in the mood. This Lestrade work for the police does he? Will they pay?" Victor asked.

Sherlock shrugged "The money isn't really the point"

"Yes it is the point Sherlock when you have to eat and keep a roof over your head! I swear you don't live in the same world as the rest of us!"

"What's this really about?" 

Victor sighed and looked to the ceiling as he gave himself a moment "I think we should call it a day"

"What?!"

"It's been fun and amazing and great, but I can't do it anymore"

"Have you met someone else? Because if you have-"

"I haven't I swear"

"Then why?" Sherlock asked quietly

"Because you never tell me you love me. Oh don't get me wrong, I know you like me and you like spending time with me, but you like me in the way you would like a dog or your favourite shoes...when we were at uni I thought the world of you and I want the chance to see if I can find anyone who'll feel that way about me!  
I want someone who wants me and needs me before I'm old and grey and I wake up wondering why I wasted all that time!"

"You've made your feelings very clear. I suggest you not waste any more time then. I'll help you pack"

"I was hoping we could still be friends, not to mention I live here! I pay more rent than you. God you're so petty and immature"

"I'll think I'll pass on being friends thanks! You can sleep on the sofa until I move out"

From that day Sherlock believed in the mantra of 'Alone is what I have. Alone protects me"

But of course that all changed when he met John Watson.


	11. 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just been violently sick everywhere so I'm not in the best of moods, but you know, I've tried to do the decent thing, the right thing, and if JayyBee is too petty or touchy to let me say sorry then that's their problem!
> 
> The eye description comes from a new York winters tale by mark helprin 
> 
> Everybody else, hope you had a great Christmas and I wish you happiness and health for 2015!

Sherlock was surprised when John lent him his phone the first time they met, he never even had to send out any tendrils of charm!  
He had eventually found lodging with Mrs Hudson after the mess with Victor and she was fast becoming like a mother to him, but well, he couldn't always make the rent and he had noticed that she was getting increasingly confused after he charmed her, no doubt due to old age. Thus he was only too keen to have Dr Watson as a flatmate! The fact he was oddly appealing and his hair colour was more on the fairer side was a bonus.  
He was even more surprised after John killed for him, well because of him really.

"I can't think of a single person who would do for me what you just did" he informed John bluntly.

"I could never afford Baker Street on my own and I don't fancy moving out" John laughed before becoming serious "I see something in you even if you don't, you're a good person Sherlock" he nudged him with his shoulder "Buy me dinner and we'll call it quits"

Of course they both saved each others lives countless times so stopped keeping score.

***

"I've never seen you eat so how come I'm always having to go down the shops?!" John fumed and Sherlock marvelled anew-John would do this, bitch and moan about things but he would still do them. Ever ready to pass pens or fetch phones just because. Sherlock was half afraid of how obliging he would be if he did charm him...which he never would he had decided.

***

During one tricky case Sherlock had no choice but to use one of his other -worldly assets, something he had no problem with in the past before John.

"John double back! Call Lestrade" he yelled as he jogged ahead

"I'm not leaving you Sherlock!"

"It's fine, I'll be fine" Once he was happy John was far enough away he opened his mouth and screamed.  
The criminal smirked incredulously but his smile faltered when the glass started shattering and his ears began to hurt. He clapped his hands over them but it did little to keep the sound out and soon blood trickled through his fingers as his ear drums burst.

"What the hell was that noise?!" John asked when the thug was carted off.

"You aren't hurt are you?" Sherlock asked in concern.

John shook his head with a grin "Just a bit of ringing in my ears"

"It's some new top secret thing government is working on" Sherlock patted his coat pocket. "I stole it from Mycroft so best not to tell anyone"

"I'll leave this case off the blog then"

John accepted Sherlock's explanation the same way he seemed to accept everything else, but even he couldn't accept that the dull non-descript blue was not Sherlock's real eye colour.

Another day another chase, only this one had a bit more sense and came prepared and Sherlock was left frantically rubbing his weeping burning eyes after getting sprayed in the face.

"Let me see" John demanded. He steered him into the light and told him to open his eyes. When he did, red and swollen though they were, they were like electric lights

"What...? Sherlock why do you wear contacts?"

"I would have thought that was obvious" Sherlock retorted.

"They're um, unusual I grant you, but wearing coloured lenses for long periods of time carries all sorts of dangers! I would rather look at weird eyes than listen to you moan about being blind! So please, for me, stop wearing them"

And Sherlock actually did even though Anderson and Donovan called him freak even more often, and even though John did find it creepy (especially since he noticed they seemed to glow in the dark like a cat) he never let on, and Sherlock was happy for the first time in years even if did have to put up with John's conveyor belt of girlfriends.


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, hope 2015 is going well so far?!  
> I'm sorry it is taking so long to update-still don't have a computer-but I'll finish my works in progress I promise!

Sherlock moved the curtains to one side as he watched John cross the road. Off on a date with Sarah. Again.

'Third time this week! Must be serious' Mrs Hudson commented cheerfully.

'Mrs Hudson please bugger off! When I want your opinion I'll ask for it!'

'Well really, there's no need to be so rude' the old lady tutted before going back to her own flat.

Sherlock meanwhile flung himself on the sofa and threw knifes at the wall. He was still there when John got back.

'Been doing a spot of re-decorating then?' He said glancing at the wall. 'Better than the bullet holes I have to admit'

'You won't be living here much longer so it doesn't matter' 

'What?!' John paused on his way to the kitchen.

Sherlock sat up in a flurry of silk dressing gown and almost tangible energy. 'You think I care if you marry Sarah and have a dozen average children and we never catch criminals together again?! Because I don't, I've lived on my own before and coped and I'll cope just fine without you!' 

John made tea as he tried to explain 'Sherlock I'm not marrying anybody right now, but even if I did we can still do this, whatever this is...did you eat all that?!' He noticed all the empty boxes and wrappers as he dumped his tea bag.

'Don't be absurd! It was an experiment, on the decompositional rates of food products!' Sherlock replied scathingly.

'I can't deal with your tantrums and issues right now. I'm going to bed'

John fell asleep to the sound of haunting music that seemed to him like a song he had once known and was sorry to have forgotten.  
They each found a way to apologise and accept and life went back to normal, Sherlock even managed to keep the gloating to a minimum when Sarah broke up with John.

 

.........................................................................

'You know the location of that new case goes past where your parents live?' John oh so casually mentioned one afternoon.

'So?' Sherlock looked up from whatever mess he was currently poking on the kitchen table.

'So we could stop the night and break up a long journey...maybe take the Christmas presents and I can meet your parents?'

'Why would you want to do that? If they were worth meeting I would have introduced you, it's bad enough Mycroft hovers around!' Sherlock frowned displeased 'Well, father is alright I suppose' he reconsidered.

'Excellent! I'll call him shall I? I know you don't get on well with your family but you'll miss them when their gone' John said quietly as he gave Sherlock's shoulder a squeeze. 'It's never too late to build bridges until its too late'

Sherlock swallowed a snort. He had the feeling this was more about John then him. 'Just one night because it's convenient for the work'

And so a week before Christmas John was being ushered into an impressive country mansion by a man who bore more than a passing resemblance to Mycroft Holmes.

 

'What's he doing here?' a pretty fair haired woman asked.

'I said he could stay the night remember?' Mr Holmes answered.

'Fine, as long as he doesn't get in the way when he comes...I see you managed to find someone else who can tolerate you? I thought Victor was the only one'

'Nice to see you too mother'

'Ignore her, I'm glad to see you Sherlock. I've been following the blog; good work both of you' Holmes senior supplied.

'Hello John, Sherlock. Let me show you to your rooms' Mycroft appeared out of nowhere and just as quickly disappeared.

'Your mum seems...well you were right. I'm sorry we're here but it is only a night and you can spend some time with your dad' John awkwardly apologised.

'I did try telling you'

'Yeah ok. So Victor eh? Who's he?' John couldn't hide his curiosity at this tid bit of Sherlock's past. And was that jealousy he was feeling?

'It was a long time ago' Sherlock shrugged  
'What?!' he snapped as John gaped at him.

'Nothing I just thought you didn't, I thought you weren't interested in all that, just the work'

'It was before the work'

'Oh right' John lamely replied 'I'm going to go unpack now'

***

'Are you coming down for dinner John?' Sherlock enquired after rapping his knuckles against the door to John's room. Before he had the chance to say anything further however Mycroft appeared looking even more serious than usual and propelled Sherlock into John's room.

'Mummy is expecting company tonight Sherlock' he looked at John pointedly. 'Does he know?'

'Do I know what?'

'He means do you know that I was swapped as a baby in hospital. It's why mummy can't love me I suppose. And of course John didn't know, why would he?!' Sherlock glared at Mycroft.

'Yes well...mummy's guest is someone she believes to be, well, her real son'

'What?!'

'If you don't mind John this is family business. If you would be so kind as to wait downstairs'

John left in a bit of a daze, glad to be out of it.

'You aren't making any sense Mycroft' Sherlock folded his arms with a frown.

'She met him a couple of months ago, almost ran him over apparently. She invited him in and made him tea as one does in the circumstances, and she says she just knows' Mycroft explained

'What does this mean? Has she told father?'

'I don't think so, he wouldn't be able to believe it anyway'

Sherlock nodded distractedly 'We had better go down'

***

After an awkward and unsatisfying dinner that ended with the humans playing a board game, Sherlock snuck off to the library. 20 minutes later Mrs Holmes guest entered.

He was small in height and size, pale boyish face and eyes like black holes.

I suppose he has Mycroft's receding hairline Sherlock thought nastily.

'Who are you?' he asked out loud.

'I'm Sherlock Holmes, who are you?' was his reply. 'I know what you really are but I won't say anything-you're a victim here as much as I am! I want us to be friends Sherlock' he continued with a smile. 'You can call me James Moriarty, Jim'

Sherlock shook the outstretched hand slowly.

'You have questions and I'll be happy to answer them. Here's my card, call me sometime. I had best be on my way but some friendly advice before I go; your little doctor could be taken in a flash unless you claim him did you know? tasty morsel that he is...'

***

'There you are. Jim said I would find you here' John spoke gently as he made his way into the library. 'Are you alright after what Mycroft told you? You know I'm here if you ever want to talk...'

'Thank you. For everything, I'm not sure what I would do without you John, so I'm sorry...'

'Sorry for what?' John asked, voice more full of confusion than suspicion.

'Come to me John. I need you' Sherlock reluctantly turned on his charm.

'What is that amazing smell? Sherlock what..'

'Ssh John, don't think just feel..don't you want me John?'

'Yes! Yes I do, always and forever only you Sherlock'

 

As they lay awkwardly together on the too small sofa after the fact, Sherlock felt as cold as his naked skin. He had never wanted to trick John with his powers, he cared about him too much to risk losing him. He was an idiot to listen to Jim-for what fairies were there in London to spirit John away bar himself?

'You're thinking too loud' John murmured as he ran a hand up and down Sherlock's arm.

'I was just thinking that you don't have to worry. This doesn't have to change anything'

John lifted his head from kissing Sherlock's shoulder. 'What if I wanted it to? I admit I've given a lot of mixed signals, but what if I said I've wanted this for awhile?' He pursed his lips as he thought 'Technically I don't think it would be any different to the relationship we have now, except hopefully there would be more of what just happened, which I never thought you were interested in but thank god I was wrong, because that was fantastic!' he grinned.

Sherlock turned to face John, heart pounding with confused hopeful fear. ' Why would you say that?' he knew the charm was off so that could only mean John meant it.

'Because Sherlock Holmes, you gorgeous prat, I want to be with you. If you want to be with me I mean, obviously, oh shit'

'Yes John Hamish Watson I want that too'


End file.
